


I Guess You Were My First Boy Wonder

by pissvinegarandacrowbar



Series: I guess you were my first boy wonder [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Faked character death, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissvinegarandacrowbar/pseuds/pissvinegarandacrowbar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Tear out all your tenderness.</em> </p><p>Jason Todd is alive. Dick Grayson is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Inspiration:**
> 
> “Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart/Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart.” - Florence and the Machine, _Howl_
> 
> “I always wanted to be invisible for pervy reasons/now, because everyone is always staring/because I lived and you didn't/[( **I guess you were my first boy wonder** )](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=174)"

Jason should have known. He should have been sharp enough, smart enough, skeptical enough to realize that whatever this was - the glowing feeling in his chest, the way the edges of his mouth hurt from smiling, the scent that clung to his skin - would never, ever last.

Good things were meant for good people, and that category decidedly didn’t include him.

There was the sense of something wrong as soon as Jason entered the warehouse - an off feeling, a weird hunch - but he ignored it until he walked in far enough to see Roy on the couch.

With his arms wrapped around Kori, both of them red-eyed and blotchy-faced.

“Roy?” Jason asked tentatively, dropping his bag and staring at the pair. “Kori? What happened?”

There was a moment of silence where Roy wouldn’t meet Jason’s eyes and Kori just stared at him, before stiltedly offering, “Have you… Have you not heard?” Roy tensed up beside her, pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder.

“Heard what?” Jason asked, his panic ratcheting up, flooding his lungs like bitterly cold water. “Heard _what_? What the fuck is going on?”

“Jason,” Roy said, his voice soft so _sad_. “It’s… It’s Dick.”

 _Dick is hurt, Dick is missing, Dick is leaving_ , ran through Jason’s head, all his worst fears on repeat. He was used to watching them loop through his mind, on late nights when Jason woke up alone and his heart instantly sped up into panic, despite the fact that Dick was just in the washroom, across the hall, close enough to hear Jason’s hyperventilating and run back into the room. 

None of Jason’s fears had come true yet, and he’d allowed Dick’s presence in his life- Dick’s _love_ \- to lull him into a false sense of security. 

It was the worst mistake he’d ever made.

“Dick… He’s dead.” 

Jason’s mouth dropped, and he stared at Roy in shock as his gaze fell again to his lap, to Kori’s hands clasped there. There was… There was _no way_. They had seen each other that morning, for Christ’s sakes, the night before they had -

It wasn’t true. 

“That’s not fucking funny,” Jason snapped, and Roy’s head lifted so he could look at Jason in distress. “Seriously, it’s really not. Where the fuck is he?”

Kori stood a little and held out a hand towards Jason. “Roy is not lying,” she told him, and there were tears welling in her eyes again. “Richard is… Richard is dead. They found his body in the -“

“ _Stop_!” Jason yelled. Kori flinched and stepped back as if she had been slapped. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you two are playing, but Dick is _fine_. I’m going over to his place _now_.”

“Jason -” Roy started to protest, but Jason had already scooped his bag off the floor and strode furiously out the door. This was - it was a sick joke, it _had_ to be. How many nights had Dick held him in his arms, soothing his aches and worries with soft strokes of his hands down Jason’s back, promising him, _“I’m not going_ ** _anywhere_** _. You can’t get rid of me now.”_

The drive to Dick’s apartment was a blur; Jason felt like he was awakening from a long dream as he gripped the door handle, carefully unlocking it with his key - _the key Dick had given him_. He stepped in and froze, looking at one of the many blankets puddled on the floor, left exactly like it had been the night before -

_“It’s okay,” Dick whispered, voice low and gentle in Jason’s ear. “We don’t have to do this.”_

_“Yes, we do,” Jason argued, and he could sense Dick’s frown despite the fact that his eyes were shut tight. Jason took a deep breath and counted down slowly, still using Bruce’s old anxiety-management techniques from his time as Robin. They usually worked, helped Jason quell the storm locked inside his chest without resorting to violence._

_This time, not so much._

_“Jase,” Dick tried again, “I’m serious. I don’t_ **_need_ ** _this. I love what we do already. This… This isn’t worth it, not if it’s going to_ **_hurt_ ** _you, not if it’s going to cause you anxiety.”_

 _Jason forced his eyes open and scrunched them into an approximation of a glare, the closest he could get to at the moment. “Goldie, shut up. I’m not doing this to hurt myself. I’m doing it because I - because I_ **_want_ ** _to. Because of all the assholes I’ve given this to, you’re the only one that really matters. You’re the only one I’ve ever_ **_wanted_ ** _to give this to.”_

_Dick grinned a little. “Did you just call me an asshole?”_

_“I’m going to,” Jason huffed, “if you don’t start_ **_moving_** _. Come on, Dickie. I’m not some virginal kid. Get_ **_on_ ** _with it.”_

_Dick’s smile softened until he was just looking at Jason like he wanted to scoop him up into his arms and hold him impossibly close. “Do you remember what I said to you, the first time we kissed?”_

_Jason feigned ignorance for half a second before he realized that Dick would see right through it. “That you were going slow because you wanted me to know that you cared about me.”_

_“Right,” Dick said, and there was that smile again as he leaned in, running his lubed-up fingers down Jason’s thigh. “So let me love you slowly, Little Wing.”_

“Jason.” The voice came from just behind him; Jason swallowed thickly and turned. Tim was standing in Dick’s doorway, his hair stuck to the tear-tracks on his cheeks, his hands carefully cradling Dick’s domino mask. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”

Jason fell to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am so sorry.)
> 
> Beta credit goes to the amazing [arkharn_night](http://souyo.co.vu), thank you SO much for putting up with my rambling and for fixing the approximately 3000 mistakes I made in this.
> 
> You may yell at me [here](http://pissvinegarandacrowbar.tumblr.com), I probably deserve it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written while listening to the "Life is Strange" soundtrack because I have no chill.

There was nothing quite as strange as watching your own funeral.

It had taken some convincing to get Bruce to film it, but, Dick figured, _you forced me to fake my own death_ was a pretty decent bargaining tool.

Not that it was good for much else.

Dick let his chin rest in his palm as he watched the video replay on his laptop. The funeral hadn’t started yet, but the park was nearly full with vigilantes. Every person Dick could ever remember meeting, connecting with, _loving_ , was there in attendance.

Except Jason.

“Isn’t that a little morbid?” a cool voice called from behind Dick, and he tensed for a moment before he placed the intruder. Helena walked over to stand behind Dick’s chair, her hands resting on his shoulders as she leaned in to peer more closely at the screen. “Well, well, Grayson. Congratulations. My funeral was not nearly so well-attended.”

Dick swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m not sure that it’s something to brag about,” he told her. Helena had settled in a crouch beside him, watching Dick’s funeral closely. “I’m not sure that I should be taking pride in _any_ of this, actually.” Helena snorted and flicked her fingers dismissively towards the computer.

“At least people will miss you,” she offered, and Dick’s heart constricted again. He knew that this would be hard on his family - had known it would hurt them deeply the moment Bruce told him what he had to do. But they would heal. They would find solace in each other, help each other pick up the pieces and move on.

_They will_ , Dick told himself fiercely as he closed his eyes to fight back the wetness stemming there. _He will be okay._

Helena whistled low and Dick flicked his eyes open, shifting to take in her face. Her expression was grim as she gestured at the screen again. "Well, I'll be," she said. "Looks like even your undead brother showed up."

Dick snapped back to the screen and leaned in, his breath caught in his lungs as he desperately searched for the man Helena was describing. It took him a moment, his attention caught by Barbara with her face in her hands, Tim rubbing her shoulder soothingly as he leaned on her wheelchair as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. His gaze skipped over Steph holding Cassandra close to her chest with one arm, her other wrapped tight around Damian's shoulders, and found Roy and Kori, their hands clasped tight and their faces turned away from the camera, staring at something -

Staring at _Jason_.

Dick's breath released in a _whoosh_ as he took Jason in, catalogued every inch of the man on the screen whose tight posture had him instinctively wanting to reach out, soothe with his hands over Jason's shoulder blades. Jason walked into the proceedings stiffly, nodding at Roy and Kori before settling awkwardly a few feet away from them, so close to the edge of the gathered group that he almost seemed outside of it. Jason's hands were in his pockets and his face was guarded, sharp as if he would lash out at the first person to come near him. His hair was drooping in his eyes, the white swath hiding his expression as he rose on the balls of his feet to peer over the crowd towards Dick's coffin.

And god - _god_ , did Dick miss him in that moment. Dick was missing Jason constantly, if he was honest, not least of all because he’d become accustomed to having someone _around_ to touch and smile at and spend time with in blissful solitude. But beyond that, Dick just missed _Jason_. Missed the way Jason tipped his head back when he laughed straight from his gut, missed the messy wave of his hair in the morning, missed the way Jason curled closer to him at night, despite denying vehemently that he liked cuddling.

Missed Jason’s broad, calloused hands on his shoulders, his hips, cupping his ass as he moved Dick to his lap. The way Jason’s stubble felt on the curve of his neck and his inner thighs. The way he would sigh, just a little, when Dick kissed him slowly, languidly. The way his self-image had progressed to the point that he would walk around Dick’s apartment shirtless, Dick inevitably distracted from whatever he had been doing to stare shamelessly at the long lines of his back, his abs, his _arms_.

The way Jason would say, “ _I love you_ ,” in every language he knew before he would say it in English, but always with a mixture of awe and careful hope in his voice.

Helena looked at Dick for a long moment before she diverted her eyes. "Not quite "brother" then, apparently,” she deadpanned.

Dick didn't respond as the proceedings on screen began. He was sure, in future rewatches - and he planned on frequently rewatching the video as both a punishment and a _reminder_ \- he would be touched by the kind words of his friends and family. What Helena had said about his funeral being _well attended_ bothered him more than he’d let on, because he knew that the people in that crowd - spilling out of the confines of the park, bodies wedged closely together to make more room for another mourner - deserved better from him than this. They had loved him, supported him, gone to hell and back for him or with him -

And he was lying to all of them.

When Bruce had promised Dick that he could come back home when he completed the mission, Dick had clung to the words like a lifeline. They were his goal, the light at the end of the tunnel, and his greatest motivation. Now, though, as he watched Clark speak to the crowd with a hand on his chest, the promise meant nothing because it wasn’t going to be that _easy_. No one would forgive him easily for this, if they forgave him at all, and Dick knew, instinctively, that he deserved that. What kind of person, what kind of _monster_ , told everyone he loved that he was dead?

One that had been manipulated by Bruce into doing it, that’s who.

A hot flash of anger coursed through Dick as he remembered the way Bruce had looked him in the eyes and brought up Tim and Damian, how they could _die_ because of Spyral if no one stopped them. “Again,” Bruce had muttered bitterly after Damian’s name, and Dick’s heart had leaped into his throat because he knew what was coming. _Jason. What would you do to save him, Dick? Could you live with yourself if he became a casualty of this war?_

Bruce had just taken the guilt Dick already had - over failing to keep Jason safe as a kid, failing to help him after he came back broken and messed up, failing to love him as well as he had hoped he would, as well as Jason deserved - and gave it a little direction.

Helena cleared her throat and Dick snapped back to attention as figures on the screen milled about, clearing out of the park slowly. She stayed quiet as the funeral ended, until it was just immediate family left. Said nothing as Tim leaned heavily into Conner’s embrace, as Roy buried his head into the crook of Kori’s shoulder. Only hummed a little as Jason slowly, tentatively, approached the casket.

But both she and Dick gasped aloud when Barbara grabbed him by the hem of his shirt, yanked him down to her level, and _slapped him_.

“Well then,” Helena muttered as Dick stared in abject horror, watching as Jason pulled back and sneered at Barbara. She was yelling at him, gesturing wildly with her hands, but the video had no audio and her lips were slightly obscured by the angle of the camera. “Wonder what the hell is going on there.”

Dick swallowed. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, his voice wavering halfway though. Jason was pulling back on the screen, turning around and walking away, pushing Roy _hard_ when he reached out to grab Jason’s arm. _God, Jason. What did I do. What did I do to you?_

“Dick,” Helena said, and he slowly raised his head to look her in the eyes. He could tell, instantly, that she knew exactly what he was thinking. “As far as he knows, you’re dead. As far as _any_ of them know, you’re dead. So do them a favour.”

Dick knew, he _knew_ , but he had to ask anyway. “What’s that?”

“ _Stay that way._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Hi again. Sorry for the wait. I got really in my own head about my writing, so I took a break to just _consume_ for a while. Also, sorry for the angst. Most of you guessed that this was coming, but to those who didn't - is there a word for a surprise that's bad? 'Cause this is probably that.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. Thank you to [lex_of_gotham](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lex_of_Gotham/pseuds/Lex_of_Gotham) for being an amazing pal and for the suggestions about this chapter. Come visit me [here](http://pissvinegarandacrowbar.tumblr.com) if you want to virtually punch me in the face or w/e.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Dick felt… calmer. There was a certain hopelessness that came with watching your own damn funeral, and it had surrounded him the night before, smothering him until he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Dick swung up on the parallel bars and locked his elbows so he hovered upside down, defying gravity just like his mother and father had taught him. Since he was little, nothing had made Dick Grayson feel better than being inverted did. The blood rushing to his head gave him a sort of flushed clarity with which to think things through.

The day after he and Jason first slept together, Dick had gone home to his yoga mat and held scorpion pose until his arms gave out. He’d thought about _everything_ , about Jason’s nearly-hidden panic when Dick had left that morning, about what this would mean for them and their family, about Jason’s body beneath his and the startled way Jason had stumbled into pleasure, like he thought it had been trained out of him before he met Dick. In the end, Dick had been left with less clarity and more vaguely aroused longing, but he still felt better about everything. More accepting, more at peace.

He could use a little acceptance and peace at the moment.

Dick knew that what he was doing was for the greater good. He could save hundreds, _thousands_ , of lives. He could save Damian’s, Tim’s, Babs’. _Jason’s_. He knew bone-deep that there was a very real possibility that Jason would never want to see him again, provided he survived this mission. He wasn’t okay with that fact, not really. The thought of the cold, distant facade Jason put on for strangers directed towards _him_ made his stomach churn. _Strangers_. They would be strangers, worse than strangers with only hate rather than indifference between them, and every plan Dick had made for his immediate and far-reaching future would be destroyed. No buying a cute apartment together and holding Jason’s hand as he fussed over furniture for it at Ikea. No long, lazy mornings spent quietly in bed together. No elaborate, half-formed (okay, mostly fully-formed) plan to take Jason to Italy so he could stuff his face with pasta and tease a tan out of his pale skin. No chance to go on a tour of every church in Rome and watch the way Jason’s face glowed with awe. No way to take him on a water taxi on the Venice Canal and ask him to spend the rest of his life with him in the most over-the-top, cheesy, romantic gesture he could think of. Jason would _hate_ how much he loved it. He would feign embarrassment every time he told the story while his cheeks flushed with pride.

Dick had bought a ring. It was in his top drawer, hidden in a sock. It would _stay_ there.

Dick took a deep breath and swung down from the bars. He let himself sink to his knees for a moment. It was what he had been fighting himself over since the moment Bruce had first said the word _Spyral_. How much was Jason’s life worth? Did Dick value the potential for Jason to live to his elderly years more than he wanted to be with Jason, even if it meant Jason, and everyone else Dick loved, died young? The first option was selfless. It was, objectively, the right thing to do.

Helena stepped into the training room and called Dick’s name. He rose to his feet, gritting his teeth.

_Then why was it so hard?_

 

\--

 

Tim sighed heavily for the nth time as he watched his curtains flutter. It was subtle, but Tim knew what he was looking for. He could identify the signs of Conner nearby as easily as Conner could pick his heartbeat out of a crowd.

Tim sat up and ran his functional hand across his face. “Bruce is going to kill you if you keep hovering around his mansion,” he said to no one in particular. The curtains ruffled for a moment before Kon landed in Tim’s bedroom. At least he had the decency to look sheepish.

“I'm sorry,” Kon said, and Tim barely avoided sighing again. “I know you want time alone, but you're hurt and grieving, and I worry…”

Because the last time someone Tim loved had died, it had been Conner, and Tim had gone more than a little mad-scientist crazy and attempted to clone him. It wasn't something Tim liked talking about but he couldn't blame Kon for making the connection. Especially when he felt responsible for both deaths.

Conner could have saved Dick. He could have seen through the trap and warned them, or taken Dick to safety long before he was ever strapped into the Murder Machine. If only Tim had been smarter, more tactical, thought everything through -

“I can tell you're blaming yourself,” Kon told him. Tim glared for a moment before lowering his eyes. “There was nothing you could have done, Tim. I know why you made the decision you made. You thought you were doing the right thing.” _No_ , Tim thought, _you_ **_think_ ** _I thought I was doing the right thing. I have no idea what I’m doing._

“I chose your life over his,” Tim said. He fought hard to keep his tone level. Kon flinched regardless. “All I could think about was the last time you and I fought an international super-threat together, how well that ended. I let it blind me. And now Dick’s _dead_ ,” Tim’s voice finally broke, “and I’m responsible because I’m too _selfish_ to think shit through. How do I look Bruce in the eyes, Kon? How do I not agree when Damian tells me I don’t deserve to be in this family? How do I not think about Jason greiving someone he fucking loved and not know _exactly_ how world-shattering that is?”

Kon was on Tim’s bed and had him wrapped up in his arms in an instant. He was being careful not to jostle Tim’s broken arm and Tim noticed, with a certain sense of detachment that brought with it strong memories of standing alone in a lab with Conner’s DNA on a computer in front of him, that he was crying. “Rob,” Conner whispered. His voice was heavy with grief. “Rob, it’s not your fault. It’s not your _fault_. Rob, you gotta start breathing,” and Tim realized that he was starting to hyperventilate. “Tim, babe, c’mon, breathe with me,” but all Tim could think was, _I don’t deserve the luxury of breathing when Dick can’t_ as he descended into a full-blown panic attack in Conner’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up over a year later with Starbucks* sup sorry I'm late
> 
> On a very real note, thanks for your patience. The criticism of my last chapter obviously got to me in a very real way. I cross my heart promise I won't be gone this long again.


End file.
